Ancient Love for His Majesty
Episode 1
The first rays of dawn kissed the Dewdrop Pavilion, painting the intricate carvings with a soft, golden light.
I, Qin Meixin, second daughter of the Ministry of Justice, stirred beneath my silk covers, the scent of plum blossoms drifting in from the courtyard. Today was the day. The annual archery competition for the ladies of the court.
A thrill, sharp and clean as a newly fletched arrow, shot through me. Not for the accolades, though Mother always stressed the importance of maintaining our family's reputation.
No, my excitement stemmed from the pure joy of the draw, the tautness of the string, the satisfying thunk as the arrow found its mark.
I rose, the cool marble floor a stark contrast to the warmth of my bed. As I dressed, my thoughts drifted to my elder brother, General Qin. He led the Imperial Guards with an iron fist and a stoic face, yet he always found time to critique my archery form, his gruff voice softening with pride when I improved.
He wouldn't be here today, duty chained him to the palace walls, but I knew his expectations hung in the air like the morning mist.
A knock on the door heralded the arrival of Lian, my personal maid. Her face was a picture of nervous anticipation.
Lian
Second Miss, everything is prepared. The Plum Blossom silk for your embroidery, the ingredients for your famous lotus root cakes, and of course…
Ishe trailed off, gesturing towards the long, slender case leaning against the wall.
I smiled, a genuine smile that reached my eyes.
Qin Meixin
Thank you, Lian. Let us not keep the sun waiting.
The archery grounds buzzed with activity. Ladies in vibrant silks, their faces powdered to porcelain perfection, chattered like magpies. I spotted Lady Li, the Minister of Rites' daughter, whose eyes narrowed in my direction. We had been rivals since our days at the Imperial Academy.
Her embroidery was exquisite, her calligraphy flawless, but her archery… well, let's just say she favored style over substance.
I ignored her pointed gaze and focused on the target. Fifty paces. A simple distance for a seasoned archer, but today, with the weight of expectation pressing down, it felt like a mile.
I drew my bow, the familiar weight comforting in my hand. The arrow, fletched with feathers I had personally selected and painstakingly embroidered with a delicate plum blossom design, felt like an extension of my own arm.
I breathed in, drawing strength from the crisp morning air, and exhaled slowly, centering myself. The world narrowed to the target, the red bullseye a beacon in a sea of green.
This was it. Time to show them what Qin Meixin could do.
The arrow flew, a silver streak against the azure sky. A collective gasp rippled through the crowd. I held my breath, watching, and waiting. The arrow struck. Not the bullseye. Not even close.
It thudded into the outer ring, a pathetic showing that drew a snicker from Lady Li. My face burned with shame.
What happened? I practiced this a thousand times. My form was perfect, my aim true. Yet, here I stood, humiliated in front of the entire court.
Lian rushed to my side, her face etched with concern.
Lian
"Second Miss, are you alright? Perhaps the bow is misaligned?"
I shook my head, my mind reeling. The bow was fine. The arrow was fine. It was me. Something had thrown me off, a momentary lapse in focus, a flicker of doubt.
Head Judge
"Another arrow, Second Miss?"
The head judge, a stern-faced woman with eyes like chips of flint, prompted.
I nodded, forcing a smile.
But as I reached for another arrow, my hand trembled. The confidence that had coursed through me moments ago had evaporated, replaced by a cold, gnawing fear.
Could I recover from this? Could I salvage my reputation, my family's honor?
Taking a deep breath, I knocked another arrow, this one adorned with a simple bamboo leaf design. I raised my bow, but the target seemed to sway before my eyes. The whispers of the crowd grew louder, each one a tiny barb pricking at my pride.
Suddenly, a figure emerged from the crowd. Tall, imposing, dressed in the crimson robes of a high-ranking official. My father. His face was unreadable, his eyes fixed on me.
My heart sank. He had come to witness my failure. To see his daughter, the supposed paragon of virtue and skill, crumble under pressure.
He stopped a few paces away, his presence radiating an aura of authority that silenced the murmuring crowd. He didn't speak, didn't offer a word of encouragement or rebuke. He simply stood there, watching.
The weight of his gaze was almost unbearable. I lowered my bow, my hands numb. I couldn't do it. I couldn't face the humiliation of another missed shot, another wave of whispers.
I stammered, my voice barely audible.
The crowd erupted in a cacophony of gasps and murmurs. Lady Li's triumphant smile widened. My father's expression remained unchanged.
I turned and fled, pushing through the throng of onlookers, desperate to escape the judging eyes, the stifling atmosphere, the crushing weight of my own failure. I ran until I reached the sanctuary of the Dewdrop Pavilion, collapsing onto my bed in a flood of tears.
The embroidered arrow, once a symbol of my skill and pride, now felt like a cruel reminder of my inadequacy.
What had gone wrong? And more importantly, what would my father say?
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